A Mad World
by Quaxo
Summary: Dark AU: Harry Potter is your average Uni student... until one night, he meets a strange boy at a club, and after a case of thievery, Harry's life will never be the same again.


I probably shouldn't post this without knowing exactly where I'm going, but I'm so uncertain of whether I should continue that I find I must post. Please read, and criticize!  
  
Unofficial Responses to Challenges of the Dawn til Dusk FQF  
  
52) A maze with traps and riddles, Harry and Snape are stuck in it. 97) AU: What if Snape and Harry had been of the same age (Read: What if Snape were younger than Harry?) 126) Why is Snape wearing makeup? 180) Harry's first kiss with Severus Snape triggers some accidental magic.  
  
A Mad World, By Quaxo  
  
Prologue: A Lonely Winter's Night  
  
***(-I-)**(-I-)***  
  
All around me are familiar faces, Worn out places, Worn out faces. Bright and early for the daily races; Going nowhere, Going nowhere..  
  
---- 'Mad World' Gary Jules (orig. Tears For Fears)  
  
***(-I-)**(-I-)***  
  
It is amazing where life can lead us when we least suspect it. It sounds very cliché, but most true things are. I am glad though, because I probably would not be so happy as I am now had things gone according my plan.  
  
Severus lies curled next to me, in an amazingly compact coil considering his elongated and light frame. His delicacy is no doubt a by-product of growing up in the midst of the war, as much as his almost translucent pallor is from all those years spent underground.  
  
He head is resting upon my thigh as he dozes post-coitus. It reminds me of the late morning that we first truly met. although I suppose I should go to the beginning.  
  
***(-I-)**(-I-)***  
  
It would have been a starry night, had the fog not been so thick on this November evening. It was especially bad on the docks, where the cool plumes floated at eye level.  
  
Harry James Potter, a young promising student attending his third year at University, stumbled about with his friends, in a half-drunken stupor. It was Peter, his flat mate's, birthday, and they'd decided to go bird chasing. So far a fairly unsuccessful venture, but they'd gotten pretty pissed and so it really didn't matter.  
  
They'd gone out of their way to this particular club, because Jonathan, Harry and Peter's mutual best mate, had been raving about in his stupor for the last hour, focusing on the scantily clad women that danced in cages.  
  
Harry didn't care so much about the girls' states of dress so much as the drinks. He was openly gay, with his friends anyway. Just the thought of telling his conservative controlling parents that he liked blokes made him want to get to the club faster.  
  
Jonathan motioned jerkily at an ancient industrial building, where the plywood covering the openings for windowpanes was rattling with the heavy bass of the music. With renewed vigor they stumbled inside.  
  
The lightshow was certainly impressive, Harry thought as he was nearly blinded by them. The negative images emblazoned upon the insides of his eyelids showed the cages that were suspended from the ceiling, containing persons of both sexes writhing enchantingly in their boxes.  
  
Peter and Jonathan were soon lost in the crowd, and Harry didn't find that he minded all that much. He was not a good club dancer, and the rapidly swirling sticks of light made him wary.  
  
He headed over to the bar, and found a space open. It was tight, but it beat trying to fight is way through the dance floor to the booths on the other side. He ordered some Mandarin Absolut, and set to the process of waiting for his drink.  
  
In his boredom, he turned his head to the side to look at the patron sitting next to him (as the wall next to him was not all that interesting). A young man of sat beside him, looking to be no older than eighteen, his head bowed low. A finger was tracing down the length of his long straight nose in a nervous sort of way.  
  
He looked the shy sort; one of those who had been pulled forcefully out of whatever he'd secured himself in (in front of his computer screen from the paleness of his skin), and dragged out to a club so that they could say that he was at least 'sociable'.  
  
It looked as if he had been put up to wear the patent leather straps that passed as clothing, as he shivered frequently despite the intense warmth generated by the hundred or so gyrating bodies on the nearby dance floor.  
  
"I'm Harry," he said with unusual friendliness.  
  
The man looked up, his eyes heavily outlined in kohl, and a blackish lipstick that gave him a feminine look in the strobe lighting. He seemed to stare dumbly at him for a moment.  
  
"Severus." He replied in soft voice that he barely caught over the bass.  
  
His vodka was delivered, and he took a casual sip. Severus hunched back over his drink. He was frail looking in the dim light, and so thin that his shoulder blades looked like wings trying to break through his pale skin.  
  
They said nothing else to each other for three hours, by which time, 4 in the morning to be precise, the bar was starting to close up. Harry was frustrated to note that neither Peter nor Jonathan were anywhere in sight. They'd promised they wouldn't completely abandon him. He'd been so bored he'd started to move on to the more exotic drinks, and now too drunk to their names, he ordered them by colors, and the bartender seemed to understand.  
  
"That's a nice outfit you got," He slurred to Severus, who blinked. A flush took over his face, and he stole a quick glance to the bartender who glared at him.  
  
"Would you like to see underneath it?" Severus asked, his blush increasing noticeably.  
  
'Oh,' he had thought drunkenly, 'he's one of those.' There were rumors that some clubs held a troupe of prostitutes, whom they circulated amongst the patrons. Obviously he'd just found one.  
  
Part of him considered taking the other up on his offer. it would certainly be better than stumbling home alone. Another part of him was disgusted with even thinking cavorting with a prostitute. An additional part felt sad for the younger man, he looked new and inexperienced at such a field.  
  
"Sure," he mumbled, and Severus was unable to hide a small frown at that response.  
  
Severus stood and took him by the hand, and guided him to a hidden doorway that opened into a dark and narrow hall.  
  
The place reeked of alcohol and other substances, but Harry supposed that one wasn't very picky when you were paying for services. Severus led him to a room on the left, and pulled a key out of parts unknown and opened the door.  
  
The room was a violent laxative pink, and he cringed at the sight of it. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to live in a room like this, he thought as he sat tiredly on the full-sized bed with a dark red satin duvet.  
  
Severus looked at him nervously, his arms wrapped protectively against his long torso. He seemed to resolve himself, though, and began to fiddle with the buckles on his shirt. The shirt quickly fell to pieces, revealing a milky and lean torso of a boy just over the cusp of manhood.  
  
His pity for the boy strengthened as he began to fumble nervously with the fly of his leather trousers.  
  
"You don't have to do that." He mumbled, before falling tiredly onto his side.  
  
The boy did not question him, merely nodding in assent to his decision. He stood for a moment, unsure of what he should do, before heading to a small chest of drawers and fetching out a long gray nightshirt and sliding it over his slender body.  
  
It was then that he noticed the bracelet around the boy's thin wrist. It glinted dully in the light, and he blinked in surprise. It was a bangle of cold iron.  
  
"You're a wizard?"  
  
The boy nodded slowly.  
  
He had reason to be hesitant. Wizards were an unpopular lot, even though most were now kept under control by magic absorbing iron manacles. Still, there were some, especially in Severus' line of business, who would enjoy taking advantage of his weaker position.  
  
"You must be tired," He yawned, and the boy bobbed his head.  
  
Harry would have liked to continue the conversation, but it was far too early for intelligent conversation, especially with god knows how much alcohol running through his system. The blankets were warm and inviting, and they soon lulled him into a doze.  
  
***(-I-)**(-I-)***  
  
He sighed in relief as his 'patron' drifted off to sleep. He was blessed it seemed, for his first client to have been too drunk to want to fuck. He belonged to Tom, and to Tom only, and he wasn't about to let some filthy muggle touch him if he could prevent it.  
  
He quickly began to press on his thumb, wincing as he finally dislocated it. He wriggled the iron cuff off, and set it quietly upon the small dresser. Quickly he changed into some normal clothes.  
  
They had kept close tabs on him at the research center, which had greatly hindered his escape. None of the doors would open without clearance, and he did not have good enough grasp on muggle technology to bypass it. He'd been 'downsized' before he'd been able to figure out a route of escape.  
  
Here at the club, however, security was significantly less. Metal detectors were specifically set to find iron, and without the bracelet he could quite easily slip into the crowd and disappear.  
  
He snatched his customer's coat, which also contained his wallet. Smirking, he slid it on over his loose shirt, and swiftly exited the room. Stupid fucking muggles.  
  
***(-I-)**(-I-)***  
  
Harry awoke the next morning to a loud pounding on the door. Sitting up he immediately noticed Severus' absence. His eyes unwilling traced their way to the small tabletop, where the iron cuff he'd noticed earlier lay discarded.  
  
Leaping up he swung open the door to be confronted by one of the bouncers for the club, an ugly fellow with a shaved head and folds crimping the features of his face together much like a bulldog.  
  
"Where's the fuckin' tart?"  
  
"I don't know, I just woke up." Harry said nervously.  
  
The man shoved him roughly against the door as he stormed into the room. He searched roughly through the room, tearing the bedding apart, before discovering the abandoned bracelet. The man stormed back out, clutching the bracelet in his meaty fist.  
  
"Hey! What about my jacket?" But he received no response.  
  
Bitterly, Harry pulled on his shoes and headed out onto the street. He had a few pounds in his back pocket, just enough to get him a ride through the tube back to his apartments outside the University, and from there he could get tenement manager to let him in. Then he would begin the task of canceling his credit card and applying for new identification cards..  
  
***(-I-)**(-I-)***  
  
To Be Continued. 


End file.
